


lipstick on the corner of the page

by inkwelled



Series: pieces [7]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Writers, Casual Sex (mentioned), CatradoraWeek2018, Drinking to Cope, Explicit Language, F/F, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Rough Kissing, Writers/Artists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-09 06:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: "Adora?!""Catherine?"They stare at each other for what feels likehours.Adora's not even all the way in the door yet, portfolio held against her chest and eyes wide. She seems to tremble, coming face-to-face with Catherine Weaver after almost a decade and a half.or— when adora gets an email with a proposal to illustrate a children's book, she jumps at the opportunity. maybe she should have checked to see who the author was first. day seven; childhood memories/future wishes





	lipstick on the corner of the page

**Author's Note:**

> as always, yada yada this is late yada yada i'm sorry you all know the drill.
> 
> anyways!! i'm so excited to be publishing this because i already have day eight done and edited and ready to post it tomorrow. be on the lookout! warning, though: it's nsfw. extremely. 
> 
> don't look at me like that.
> 
> enjoy!

_"Adora?!"_

_"Catherine?"_

They stare at each other for what feels like _hours_. Adora's not even all the way in the door yet, portfolio held against her chest and eyes wide. She seems to tremble, coming face-to-face with Catherine Weaver after almost a decade and a half.

Catherine groans, reaching for the phone on her desk. "Just my luck," she mutters and decidedly does _not_  look at how Adora's white skirt fits her hips perfectly.

In the doorway, Adora clutches her portfolio tighter. Her heart is racing, blood pounding up her neck and across her cheeks. She prays Catherine doesn't notice - but she's always been able to see right through Adora, even as kids.

 _Kids,_  her mind supplies.

At her desk, Catherine spits something into the phone and Adora steps further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Something in her screams to walk around, sit down in one of the leather armchairs in front of Catherine's desk. A desk nicer than hers.

Catherine, herself, has evidently been treated kindly by the years. Her black-pinstriped blazer is draped across the back of the chair as she leans forward, dropping her head into her hands and groaning, raking her fingers through her wild curls.

That hasn't changed, at least.

Adora ignores whatever she's saying into the phone. Briefcase clutched in one hand, portfolio against her chest, she wanders. Catherine doesn't notice - or if she does, she doesn't say anything.

She takes that as an open invitation.

Her office, on the eleventh floor of the office building, is spacious without being opulent. Large bay windows line the wall behind Catherine's desk, flooding the space with sunlight and a view of the skyline. There are shelves built into the wall to her right, so Adora steers herself towards it.

Damn it all, she's curious.

She's found bookshelves tell the stories people don't share.

As far as bookcases go, Catherine's is mostly bare. There's a few pieces of pottery, one or two books, trinkets Adora doesn't recognize. They look battered, handmade, charming.

"Please don't touch that," Catherine says from behind her and Adora snatches her hand away from two gold, metal hands. "I got that in Bali, from a friend. I would appreciate if you would stop meddling around, Ms. Eternia. My publicist will be here in a minute to escort you back downstairs. I am sorry for the mixup."

Adora gapes. Catherine's scribbling away at the document on her desk, curls escaping the high bun and framing her face. She doesn't say a thing about the pen sticking up out of the unruly mess atop her head - either Catherine knows or doesn't care.

"Mixup?"

Catherine sighs, finally looking up. Adora doesn't see a single spark of recognition in her eyes, even though her own ribs ache of it. " _Yes_ , Ms. Eternia. There was a mixup somewhere in my files and your communication - I don't need your services. Thank you for coming."

She closes her mouth as the door clicks open. "Catherine! What's the problem?"

Groaning, it seems, is Catherine's go-to response. "Scarlett, please escort Ms. Eternia downstairs. I won't be needing her services."

"Actually," the publicist looks down at the itinerary in her hands to double check, "she's right where she needs to be, Ms. Weaver. She was the illustrator you decided upon, last week when we went through mock-ups."

Adora squints. "Wait - I'm illustrating for _your_  book?"

"Yes," Catherine says slowly as if Adora is daft and not getting the point. Adora clenches her fist - if anything, that's the one thing Catherine hasn't lost since middle school. "You sent in the sampler, didn't you? Someone must have crossed their wires. You may go."

"Catherine-"

"Ms. Eternia, would you be so kind as to step out for a moment? I need to speak to my publicist in [private] if you wouldn't mind."

She tilts her head. "Of course. Should I go or-?"

"Stay," Catherine's publicist says, smiling reassuringly. Adora likes her instantly. "I'll be out in a minute. This won't take long."

The second the heavy door falls shut behind her, Adora can hear the frantic whispering of her former best friend. The urge to press her ear against the wood and listen to what's being said about her, not _to_  her claws up her throat.

She doesn't indulge in it.

Crossing her legs, she settles into one of the chairs along the wall. With nothing else to do, she takes out her portfolio and for the millionth time since this morning, checks to see if she has everything.

Her phone vibrates.

**Glimmer**   
_Knock them dead! You got this; we're so proud of you <3_

Despite everything, Adora smiles. There's nothing else she can do, stuck in the lobby of her former best friend that she left behind when that acceptance letter to the Bright Moon School of Fine Art came in the mail and she ripped it open.

Sometimes she wishes she didn't remember that day in terrifying, vivid detail. Sometimes she wishes she never opened that letter, never said goodbye to the one person who unconditionally loved her.

Sometimes, Adora remembers she can't change the past.

Sometimes, Adora wishes she could.

But she wouldn't be where she is today - she wouldn't be here without _leaving_. Packing that suitcase, moving away, she knows it's the hardest thing she's ever done. Will do.

Is she all the better for it?

After all, without leaving, she would never be here. She never would have met Bow and Glimmer, never have developed her passion for art, never would have moved beyond those four walls of an abusive foster home.

Adora did more than leave Catherine that day.

She _abandoned_ her.

It's closing in on two decades. She's never forgiven herself, knowing she would give all of this up in a heartbeat to be back in that moment. She would sacrifice every dollar her art ever made, the awards she's won hanging on the wall of her apartment.

She would give it all up for Catherine.

Just one moment more - one more moment before the bus pulled up. Before Catherine dug her fingernails into her arms, bit her lip, smiled back tears. Said she was _happy_ for Adora - _this is what you really want, isn't it?_

 _I want you,_  Adora-from-the-past thinks. She doesn't say it.

She never does.

For every breath afterward, every moment, she's wished she said it. She wished she threw that damn envelope to the ground, pulled Catherine in and held her tight, told her she wouldn't break their promise. That she would stay.

That they would protect each other.

"Ms. Eternia?"

Adora looks up, swipes a hand across her nose. "Yes?"

The publicist's smile is sympathetic, soft. Adora would hate it if she could. "Ms. Weaver will see you now. Officially."

"Thank you," Adora says hurriedly, swiping up her portfolio and belongings. Her movements are hurried, jerky, as cautious and toeing the line as the water on her lashline. "A-are you off then?"

Nodding, the woman approaches. "Afraid so. Let me help." Adora protests, but the publicist picks up her briefcase and offers a tissue. "I think you might need it before going in."

"Thank you," Adora says gratefully and dabs at her eyes, careful not to disrupt her makeup. The publicist inclines her head, winks with a mysterious smile.

"Our little secret. You can go in whenever you're ready."

Adora tugs at her skirt. "How do I look, Ms, uh-?"

"Scarlett Ash," the woman says and holds out her hand. "And you look ready to be Ms. Weaver's illustrator." Scarlett's eyes sparkle knowingly. "But that's not my place."

Adora can only stare. She nods at the woman, who nods back and shakes her hand again. "I think I'll be seeing you around. Goodbye, Ms. Eternia."

"You can call me Adora, Ms. Ash."

The woman smiles. "And you can call me Scarlett. Now don't keep Ms. Weaver waiting! She doesn't like wasted time."

Adora returns her smile at that.

"No. No, she doesn't."

 

 

"Glimmer, hey. Sorry I missed your call, but I uh - I got the job. Yeah"

She's barely outside the lobby of the office building when trembling fingers find her best friend's contact. The ear-splitting screech on the other end signals Glimmer heard her and the sound is quickly joined by another.

"Adora! We're so proud of you!"

She looks up at the sky, blinking back tears. "Thanks, Bow. You both at the apartment? I'll be home in a couple minutes, I want to stop at the office for a sec. Keep the coffee hot?"

"Of course!" Bow yells in the background. Glimmer's voice overtakes it.

"Everything alright? You sound...less excited than you were when you left. Did everything go okay?"

"I'll explain everything when I get home," she says distractedly, resting her hand on her car's door handle. "See you then, okay? I love you both."

"We love you too," Glimmer murmurs. "See you soon."

 

 

Adora's office is smaller, darker, not as many windows. But it's home.

Home away from home.

With a sigh, she slips off her blazer and throws it across her desk, collapsing behind the monitor. Blue light making her eyes burn in the dark room, she clicks open her email.

Stares at her screen.

Innocent, the email she sent with her attached sampler to the publicist who reached out taunts her. Adora drops her face into her hands, unsure of whether to feel grateful or lost at finding Catherine again.

All these years later, what's the odds?

What're the odds that she would come face-to-face with the one person she's ever loved - the one person she thought she could never live without?

Time has shown she can live without Catherine.

The thing is, she hates that she can. She doesn't want to.

_Not anymore._

 

 

When Adora gets home, Bow and Glimmer are waiting at the table. A cold plate of lasagna sits at her spot and she collapses into it.

Spills the entire day.

She tells them everything - from the second she got the email to the moment she walked into the office to the minute she got back to her office and cried. Glimmer scoots her chair closer, Bow wraps his arms around her shoulders.

Adora won't admit it, but she cries again.

"You do know that you getting the job means you'll be spending time a lot of time around Catherine," Glimmer says, worrying her lip between her teeth, "right? Is that the smartest thing right now?"

"I'm fine," Adora says, wiping at her nose with a napkin.

Bow snorts, ignoring the way Glimmer grinds her elbow into his ribs. "You just sobbed into my chest for five minutes after telling us what happened." His eyes soften and he reaches out to lay his hand on her shoulder. "You have to put yourself before work sometimes, Adora. There's nothing wrong with turning this down - there will be other opportunities like this. Don't overdo yourself."

She doesn't mention the way tears burn in her eyes at the statement.

As always, Bow is right. She knows that deep down, this job isn't that important, that yes, it pays good and will get her exposure, but that's not why she's fighting her friends and her common sense to do it.

It's Catherine.

It's always been Catherine.

"I want to do it," Adora says firmly, straightening her spine and looking both her roommates in the eye. "I want to do this. I _have_ to. I can't walk away from Catherine again."

Neither Bow nor Glimmer seems to have an answer for that.

Adora doesn't tell them, but she stays up late into the night, hunched over her tablet. Suddenly, none of her pieces look good enough for whatever Catherine's written.

That little nagging voice in the back of her head whispers _maybe it's because you want to prove you had a good reason for leaving._

She shuts it off and climbs into bed.

 

 

"So what's the deal with you and Adora? Who is she?"

Catherine tips the bottle against her lips, relishing the slight burn of beer as she swallows. She doesn't grimace, avoids the piercing gaze of her friend right next to her.

"No one," she mutters and pretends as if she cares about the game on the tv in the corner. Hockey, rugby, soccer - _she doesn't know and honestly doesn't care._

Scarlett snorts as to her right, Endellion surveys her. "Based upon your reaction when she walked into your office, she's not _no one._ Try again."

"Who told you about that?" Catherine all but snarls and Endellion points to Scarlett. In her defense, her publicist and best friend winces before plastering on a weak smile.

"Surprise?"

Growling underneath her breath, Catherine finishes off her beer and signals for another. She's willing to drown herself in the shitty amber bottles, sitting at the counter in a bar she's never been to before.

Anything to remember Adora's face.

Without realizing it, Catherine winces. It's been - _God, how long? A decade? Almost two?_ \- since she's seen Adora Eternia. Somedays, she likes to wake up and pretend like the first thing she thinks of isn't Adora, isn't her stupid ocean-blue eyes and petal-like lips, wide smile and infectious, ringing laugh.

It doesn't work, most days.

She's grown used to seeing Adora in the crowds. She's grown used to falling asleep next to strangers, waking up to sneak out before they wake. For every woman she's ever been with, none have been Adora.

None of them ever will be.

If Scarlett and Endellion ever noticed how every woman she ever left a bar with on late Friday nights had blonde hair and blue eyes, they never mention it. But by the knowing look in Endellion's eyes when theirs meet, Catherine has a sneaking suspicion she's put two and two together.

_Great._

_Just great._

In her back pocket, her phone buzzes. She ignores it, tilting the mouth of the bottle against her lips and continuing to ignore the silent communication going on between her two best friends.

_Best friends._

What an innocent, childish word. Coworkers, these people are.

Nothing more.

That traitorous snake in the back of her mind hisses that _they're more, they've always been more to you, haven't they?_

With a huff, Catherine pushes away from the bar. "I'm going to the bathroom," she says, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Don't wait up, I might not be home until morning."

 

 

Morning comes sooner than Adora wants.

Sadly, she has no control over that. Getting out of bed when her phone alarm blares is one of the hardest things Adora's done, but she has to. The reminder app on her iPhone taunts her with a 9:30 meeting with Catherine Weaver and she drags herself from the covers.

Glimmer smiles at her reassuringly during the hustle and bustle of getting out the door. Her best friend has never been a morning person, and plants a kiss on her cheek before hurrying out the door, coffee cup firmly in hand.

Laughing, Adora shakes her head and shares a look over her phone with Bow.

From the doorway, Glimmer flips them off and the apartment goes silent.

Bow puts a silent hand on her shoulder in passing. Adora gets up to get dressed for the day and brushes her teeth two times to tamper down the butterflies in her stomach.

She leans over the counter, spits. Adora suddenly feels like she's going to throw up.

 

 

She doesn't remember the ride to Catherine's office being this quick.

"Come in," Catherine says and startles when she looks up. Adora freezes.

Silence.

Then,

"Let's get to work. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Adora makes a sound of agreement, relief spreading through her fingers. She closes the door after her, crosses her legs when she sits. "Where should I start?"

Already looking down at whatever paperwork she's doing, Catherine waves her hand at the packet of papers. Adora assumes it's the transcript of her story - some children's book about a legendary warrior with a magical sword and talking horse. "At the beginning, I guess. It's not long, obviously, because it's geared towards children but I would like the pictures to be accurate to the plot and look hand-drawn, purposefully messy. Watercolor perhaps? Or acrylic - you decide."

She scribbles in her notebook. "That all?"

Catherine sighs, closing whatever she's writing in with a thump. Makes eye contact.

"Surprise me."

A thrill runs up Adora's spine and she doesn't look away. For a long moment, spanning minutes, hours, maybe years, neither one moves. They're challenging each other silently to look away first, cop out, surrender. Break under the pressure.

Surprisingly, it's Adora who lets her sketchbooks and portfolio fall to the floor, plants her hands on the front of Catherine's desk and captures her lips in a swooping, desperate motion.

Catherine freezes for a single second. Adora panics, going to pull away, but Catherine's hand wrap around her lapels. "Don't you fucking dare," she growls and yanks Adora back down so forcefully their teeth clank together.

Adora doesn't care.

She'll spend the rest of her life not caring if she could pause this moment right here, live in it forever. Replay it on rainy days, store it in the dusty box in the back of her mind named _Catherine_.

As it turns out, neither one of them spends the next few years alone.

It's not a happy ending, not quite. But Adora's there when Catherine's book flies off the shelves and she's on the New York Bestselling List, when she goes on tour and Catherine's there when Adora gets a deal for freelance illustrating.

Catherine's there, Adora's there.

There, and here.

Together.


End file.
